Progression
by Just A Penniless Writer
Summary: Romance for the jaded. LMHG.
1. Part 1

**Progression  
**_Just APenniless Writer_

_**Standard Disclaimer Applies**_

_**Author's Plea:**_ These short-shorts were written for the multifandom stagesoflove community on livejournal -- a marvelous place you should visit if you have a chance. Two rounds of five, divided by stage with title following. Enjoy if you can.

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**Part 1: Stages of Love**

**I. Attraction: Something to Report**

"I don't see any Dark items I need to report today, Mr. Malfoy," she states as she has every month for the last three years.

Three years... Thirty six supervised visits to Malfoy Manor. While she understands the conditions of Lucius Malfoy's release from Azkaban require a monthly search for questionable objects, she has never figured herself for leading said search for so long. How odd that what began as a favor to Harry -- who was rightly worried about bribery -- has quickly become one of the highlights of her month.

"As you never have and never will see anything to report, Miss Granger."

She smirks slightly, knowing the ambiguous wording could so easily work to his advantage. She gives him points for it, even as she mentally catalogues that statement for future reference.

"Perhaps."

He returns her smirk before he releases it in an almost unseen sigh. The simple motion makes every sign of his age all but obvious. But then, time is stealing away her youth everyday as well.

"Will the Ministry ever cease to be interested in the contents of my home? Will you?"

The bored and suggestive voice almost masks the underlying plea of his question. While she is hesitant to believe he can plead, she still feels obliged to comfort him. Then, she has been feeling obliged to grant him favors for some time now.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, you know I only come for the view."

The double entendre is not intended but not revoked. He does not smile, but the lines forming around his thin lipped expression show the first bit of honest goodness she has ever witnessed in the man. She likes it. She likes it a lot. The itch torturing the corner of her mind for the last few months is elevated to a spark.

"Very well, Miss Granger. Perhaps I will have something for you to find next month."

"I look forward to it. Good day, Mr. Malfoy."

As she Apparates away, flanked by the two guards Harry still insists follow her, she realizes that whatever respect she has been nurturing for Lucius Malfoy has morphed quickly into something more, something quite unexpected.

**II. Romance: Incorruptibility **

Harry had asked her to do this favor five years ago because she was the only one he could trust to search the residence thoroughly without buying into the Malfoy charm and fortune. She tries to think of that, remember how such trust felt, and summon the strength of character necessary to throw out the flowers before she is led down a path she dare not tread.

My, but they are such pretty flowers.

Whereas an obvious gift of bribery such as jewelry or money would have been returned immediately with a rather pointed letter, the flowers seem to mock her with their supposed sincerity.

But Hermione won't be fooled. If she has taken anything of importance from her three failed marriages, it is that flowers from a man inevitably only mean one of two things: he wants something from her or he has wronged her.

She can't think of anything Lucius Malfoy would apologize for.

With a sigh, she drops the flowers into the bin. She can't afford to accept them no matter how far he has gone towards becoming a Decent Human Being. Not when she is so very aware of the twinge in her heart at receiving something from him. It would be so easy to be tempted, not for the money but for the man. Two years of curious glances and vague statements are beginning to wear on her. Despite his past, despite her position, despite herself, he could so easily be the next man she loves. Too easily.

The card, inscribed in a flowing script with her name, lands to the side of the bin. Picking it up, she knows she should throw it away with the rest of the gift.

She doesn't.

**III. Passion: A Civil Matter**

The cognac is intoxicating even before it hits her palate. However, that could have just as easily be an effect of his predatory stare from across the parlor.

"My, Miss Granger. You do appear taller when flanked by your guards."

She swallows thickly, gathering her wit for a response.

"It is for your benefit that I did away with them today. I feel this is a civil matter that should be dealt with in private. Or would you rather I not extend the courtesy?"

"The contrary, I assure you."

There is an uncomfortable pause, prompting her to take a drink from her glass if only to break the tension. His eyes follow her movements. Finally, when she can stand the silence no more, she decides bluntness is perfectly suitable.

"You have been sending me gifts," she states plainly.

"And you have been rejecting them," he answers in a similar tone. She smirks in response. He empties his glass before rising to refill it.

"You would do well not to deny me," he says without turning to face her.

"Is that a threat, Mister Malfoy?"

He turns and smirks in all the full glory of his younger days, and it is enough to engage her sensibilities.

"You would do well not to threaten me," she says stiffly, striding toward him with purpose. Let it never be said she wasn't brave, she thinks before pushing her glass against his chest. His hand goes to steady it, to ensure none of the brandy stains his attire. However, it is not only the glass he touches.

The civil and professional distance they have always kept from each other is irrevocably ended. She is certain the touch of his fingers on hers will be felt for eternity.

"I do not accept bribes," she says honestly, doing her best to keep her tone level.

"You will accept this," he replies with certainty allowing his fingertip to trace her knuckle.

It is the first time her report on the Dark Arts contents of the manor is turned in to Harry late. If he notices, he doesn't comment.

**IV. Intimacy: These Exhausted Statements**

He is remarkably silent while they couple, but decidedly less silent in those exhausted, exhilarated moments following. She finds it refreshing considering her other lovers, husbands included, whose energy to do anything but breathe was exhausted after an evening with her.

However, she can make no sense of his choice of topics. The oddest statements he makes, phrases she would have never imagined would have come from his mind, his lips.

"The whole world be damned," he whispers solemnly while letting her slip down from the wall.

"Rome did fall because of a woman," he says with a light smirk when she has finally removed herself from his lap.

"Had I but need to bribe you," he murmurs while loosening the ties on her wrists.

And she catalogues every statement, finds every meaning, and takes joy in discovering every facet of his personality.

Until he completely throws her off.

"You are immortality."

She catalogues it. She ponders it. She even researches it to no avail. When she finally asks him for an explanation, he looks at her with such sharpness that she wonders how she can't be cut by his expression alone.

"You are a clever girl," he responds. "Tell me then, why do people seek immortality?"

"Because they are afraid of death."

"And those that are not afraid of death?"

She frowns in contemplation before sending him a blank look.

"Legacy, my pet. They are afraid of not leaving a legacy."

"And I am your legacy?"

"Once they know what you have done, they will never forget."

She considers what he says long after she leaves. In the end, she decides he knows exactly how much he has revealed of his character.

**V. Commitment: Two Rolled Parchments**

When she sees the contract he has drawn up on the table as she walks in, Hermione can't pretend she isn't expecting it. Whatever his beliefs might have been, might still be, Lucius is not a stupid man and will take whatever opportunities are afforded to him.

She's already knows she'll sign her agreement. There is no use denying him, not when he's already discovered all her vulnerable spots, not when he has become a vulnerable spot of his very own.

However, she does wonder if he understands her sense of loyalty. As a dutiful wife, she knows she will excel. But her job as his keeper came long before they ever exchanged laden words, before they ever allowed touch. There are obligations remaining, and she intends to keep up with them.

And so she searches, with the same thoroughness as the first day she searched, his eyes following her through every room. And when she signs off on her report, she signs off on his contract and attaches the two together, rolls them firmly with a thick ribbon.

He smirks, but she knows he understands. They have enough secrets together, secrets not to be told beyond the manor walls. But the contents of that very manor are not her secrets to keep.

She smiles as she slips the thick parchments into her bag, idly questioning how one commitment became two. She questions how Harry will take this news, if he knew of its eventuality as well as she. She questions whether Lucius has told his former family of his intentions. His look suggests otherwise.

She questions how an arrangement like hers could have ever occurred, how she could have allowed herself to be tied to this criminal, this arrogant elitist.

He does not let her question for long.

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	2. Part 2

**Progression  
**_Just A Penniless Writer_

_**Standard Disclaimer Applies**_

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**Part 2: Trouble in Paradise**

**I. Jealousy: A Green Edged Painting**

Hermione never asks about Lucius' former wife, and he never mentions her.

However, Narcissa's portrait still graces the parlour, and the spark of life in the eyes, the sneer that becomes more pronounced whenever she enters the room, makes her suspect the former Mrs. Malfoy's demise.

It is unfortunate, she tells herself. It is not her place to ask, she reminds herself.

Except that it is her place, and she can hardly deny the relevance of her interest in the woman she replaced. Especially when the woman she replaced is intent upon acknowledgement.

Every day the sneer tears at her until she avoids the parlour at all costs. It is then she begins to find the woman in other portraits, in other paintings. Neither ever says a word, and they live on in silent mockery.

When Lucius begins to greet his painted first wife, it is all Hermione can do not to scream. Still, she grits her teeth and keeps her lips tightly shut. It is jealousy, she knows, mere green jealousy that this harsh woman knows her husband better than she does.

That the woman is now nothing more than a painting does nothing to diminish her feelings. It did not take her long once she entered the magical realm to realize the importance of paintings, the effects of these dead individuals. Narcissa is dead therefore Narcissa should not interfere. And yet she does.

Hermione wonders how long the dead woman has been whispering in her husband's ear, how long she has been demanding his interest.

Hermione wonders if one can cheat with the dead.

**II. First Fight: Attentions Elsewhere**

They are speaking lowly as she approaches the parlour, not noticing her quiet steps out in the hall. She cannot hear what they are saying but it is enough that his tone is pleasant, missing that bitter quality that has plagued it since she first became reacquainted with him.

When she enters the room, he is smiling, such a smile that it makes her long for his companionship. She is trapped in this aching frustration until the painted woman sees her standing in the entry, and her painted expression shutters into annoyance and contempt.

Hermione has tolerated much from all her husbands. She has tolerated much from Lucius. But she will not tolerate sharing his attentions.

She leaves without a word, noticing it is only now that Lucius realizes her presence. When she does not respond to his summons, she hears him striding purposely down the hall to catch her. She finds it wonderfully ironic that the very thing that angers her this very instant is exactly what Lucius cannot stand as well. They are people of presence, and they will not be ignored.

"Hermione," he hisses irately.

"By all means, Lucius, go discreetly converse with your dead wife. You'll find my attentions elsewhere."

"She is my wife."

"She was your wife. And it was not a title she chose to keep even before her death."

"You miserable girl, do not insult her."

"Shall I hold back as she insults me then?"

"She does no such thing."

"No, Lucius, she is more suited to displaying visually how little she thinks of me. She is more suited to whispering my inadequacies into your ear."

She meets his eyes fearlessly, reveling in the righteous anger she feels. His responding fury is all the fuel she needs.

"Do not speak of things you know nothing of, Mu –"

He stops, but not soon enough.

"Is that her term of endearment for me then, or are your true sentiments finally coming forth? Hmm? Very well, enjoy your time with your dead wife. You'll find time alone not lacking."

She leaves him in the hallway before he can act. She does not look back as she leaves the manor and does not look back as she Apparates away.

**III. Break up: That Breaking Look**

When she moves into the flat Harry shares with Neville, it is not Lucius who alerts the Daily Prophet. No, her husband is too clever for that.

It is his son.

With the truth of the separation revealed, savage pitying looks begin to surface on those she once had known. It leaves a bitter taste in her mouth after each encounter until she takes to not leaving the safety of her borrowed room except to work. However, when the looks follow her into her office, she finds that even her beloved work is not a sanctuary.

Perhaps worst of all, the absolute worst look of all, is not the '_Time she found her senses_' expression that she sees on so many others. It is not even Ron's patronizing coddling.

No, the worst look of all she finds in Harry's eyes. His weary acceptance, his _disappointment_... while she cannot understand why her leaving her husband elicits such a response from her friend, she knows it is causing guilt to build within her aching heart. She loves Harry, she respects Harry, and she values his friendship even if it isn't as close as it had been as children, and it hurts to see that expression in his eyes. It feels as if those striking green eyes can pick at all the pain caused by her separation and bring it forefront.

It is perhaps a matter of survival, of self preservation that she uses anger to fight against the accusation in her friend's eyes, against her own loss. She does the best she can to morph the guilt and loneliness into fury. After all, it is Lucius' fault for not treating her as equal to his dead wife. It is Lucius' fault for listening to whatever lies the dead woman tells him, and it is certainly Lucius' fault for never noticing the ever growing enmity between his two wives.

It is Lucius' fault she feels so inclined to have divorce papers drawn up.

She signs with a determined flourish, ignoring the disappointment radiating from Harry, ignoring the deluded righteousness of Ron, and sends the papers to the Manor to be signed by her soon-to-be-former husband.

"Hermione," Harry says softly, strongly as she watches the owl fly off with her fate. "It won't work."

"What won't work, Harry?" she asks pointedly while still avoiding his honest gaze.

"You trying to leave him."

She rallies her fury and replies with a stiff chin.

"He will let me go if he knows what's best for him."

"No. He won't."

And without another word, he leaves her alone, taking all her anger with him and leaving her with only misery.

**IV. Reconciliation: A Veritable Romantic Gesture**

When the divorce papers have not been signed by him after a week, she is patient.

When a month passes, she worries.

After a month and half, she sends him a note into which she incorporates much of her anger and despair. It is returned with one word written in his elegant scrawl: No.

She sends him letter after letter demanding he sign the papers. All are returned promptly with the same two letter reply.

Her frustration makes her snappier at work until, with due grace, her employer imposes a mandatory three week vacation. It is during the second week of enforced solitude that Harry summons her to number twelve Grimmauld Place where he is setting up a memorial to the Order members who lost their lives in the battle against Voldemort.

Even with freshly painted walls, she finds she dislikes the atmosphere that still permeates the old house. She tries to dismiss the fact that she has technically married into the family that has owned the dwelling with little success. No matter the connection, it exists and knowing she is tied to this dreary place in any way is a distinct discomfort.

"What, Harry?" she snaps as she pulls her jumper tighter.

"I found something new. A visiting relative, I suppose. Though she doesn't seem to enjoy visiting so much." The tilt of his lips might be a smirk if he didn't looked so forgiving. Her heart twists violently.

"What are you talking about, Harry?"

"Just look."

With that, he points to a new painting she has failed to notice. The gilded frame is instantly recognized even before she sees the occupant who looks as though her treatment is a great indignity.

"But... the permanent sticking charm... she couldn't be moved!"

"Apparently she could. She certainly wasn't here before, and she doesn't seem to appreciate visiting her aunt."

"I don't understand..."

"What is there to understand, Hermione?"

The truth in his eyes stings, as does the truth she finally accepts about her marriage. Her husband is not a good man, but if he is willing to oust his dead wife on her behalf... well that speaks of levels of commitment she has never expected. From him, it is almost a romantic gesture.

She leaves the house without another word and spends the next day locked in her borrowed room. The next letter she sends to the Manor does not ask for him to sign the papers. It asks for them back.

**V. Make up: Such Lovely Phrases**

It is the little things that make her stay. Despite the smirk that still graces his features and almost prompts her to forget about her attempted reconciliation, she stays because that smirk is almost forced, because that line on his forehead wasn't there before, because he is listing a bit more on his cane than she remembers.

She stays and gives her demands and listens as he states his.

Trying to think of it as a simple business negotiation does not work. This is too important to be treated so flippantly. Instead she matches his gaze and uses what little Legilimency she knows to find truth in these treacherous phrases he speaks.

"You, my pet, are more trouble than you might be worth. Potter still knows the contents of my manor as well as myself. Furthermore, you take full advantage that I cannot leave the manor without your attendance, and you are jealous of the dead. If these actions were not so similar to my own, I would have let you leave long ago. As it is, you are my keeper and my wife. You were and are the best possible addition to my life, a fact you seemed content enough with to accept my proposal. As you were willing to deal with the repercussions of this very relationship, I had hoped you would see it in yourself to trust that I would do nothing to threaten my position."

Such treacherous, treacherous phrases he speaks in that low tone.

"I do not expect you to trust me inherently. You are quite too bright to be that gullible. However, I do expect that you trust me not to risk you. Merlin, girl, have you not realized your importance?"

Such treacherous, lovely phrases he speaks with a faint plead. Keep looking.

"I will not let you leave."

Such a lovely phrase. And it's true, she sees, absolutely true. All of it. The worry lingering on the corners of his eyes while she decides isn't feigned. Such a discovery delights her.

"And I will not share your attentions, love. Do not tempt me to leave again," she finally replies.

He nods solemnly, victoriously before approaching and tempting her to stay.

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